Sunshine
by owlcroft
Summary: A small difference of opinion on what constitutes comfort.


A/N: With grateful thanks to two betas who truckle to no one.

SUNSHINE

by

Owlcroft

"I never thought of being _cold _in California." McCormick huddled a little closer to the fire and tugged his sweatshirt a bit tighter. "Yeah, okay, Tahoe or something, but _Malibu_?"

"'Course it gets cold here. Well, not freezing or anything." Hardcastle took a sip of his hot cocoa and sighed in contentment. "You can't have sunshine all the time. It gets boring."

"Boring? Sunshine? Judge, you are certifiably nuts." Mark shivered extravagantly then shifted his chair a little nearer to the fireplace. "And if you think sunshine's boring, I don't know why you live in California. The sun does shine here _most _of the time, you know."

The judge leaned back in his arm chair and swirled the cocoa in his cup. "I like sun, who doesn't? All I'm saying is a little change once in a while keeps things interesting. Besides, it gets you out of doing chores, doesn't it?"

"No," was the flat reply. Mark held up his hand, fingers extended, then counted them off. "I fixed breakfast and lunch, I did three loads of laundry, I cleaned up the kitchen and vacuumed upstairs, and _then _I made your stupid hot chocolate! I wish Sarah would get back," he finished morosely. "We need groceries, too, but there's no way we'd ever find the store in this fog." He waved at the shuttered windows, then returned to his study of the leaping flames.

One final sip, and Hardcastle set his mug on the little side table between the two men. "You coulda had some, too, ya know."

"Cocoa is for old people," said McCormick with his chin elevated.

"I notice you're the one acting like an old lady. Look at ya, almost in the fireplace with your shawl on. _I'm _comfortable." The judge flipped a hand and leaned further back in his chair.

"Yeah, well, you probably walked to school in three feet of snow, uphill both ways. In June." Mark shook his head. "Me, I moved to Florida as soon as I could."

Hardcastle frowned at him. "New Jersey's not all that cold, is it? I mean, it's not exactly the frozen tundra up there."

McCormick looked at him in amazement. "_Cold_? Are you kidding? Jersey's winter average is thirty-four degrees! Now, maybe," he assumed a patronizing expression, "that doesn't qualify as cold to an old Arctic explorer like _you_, but _I'd _rather lie on a beach and get a tan." He held out his hands to the fire, then looked again at the older man across from him. "Did it really get that cold in Arkansas? Oh, I bet you were up in the mountains, huh?"

Hardcastle rested an elbow on the chair arm, then his chin on his palm, staring into the dancing flames. "Yeah, and we had some pretty rough winters, all right. Lots of snow, _real _cold, not this Santa Monica weather warning, 'temperatures in the 40s' stuff. When it got real bad, my folks would make up the day bed in the kitchen for us to sleep on and keep the stove burning all night long. They'd sleep in front of the fireplace and my dad would get up a couple times in the night to check on the heater keeping the animals in the barn warm. We'd have to break the ice on the troughs in the morning and tote bales of hay from the loft for 'em."

"Fun times on the old farm, huh?" asked Mark sardonically.

The judge shrugged, then nodded. "More fun to look back on, maybe. But we didn't have to go to school when it was that bad, and there weren't many chores. It was kind of like having a few days off, in a way. We'd listen to the radio, if the power lines hadn't gone down, and play board games. My mother'd bring out the stereoscope or read out loud to us while we made popcorn over the fire." He sighed, half in contented memory and half in rueful loss.

McCormick sat, brow furrowed. "Popcorn over an open fire? How did you do that?"

"Oh, we had a popcorn basket. Little wire cage kinda thing." Hardcastle held his hands about eight inches apart. "'Bout that big, on a long wooden rod. You put the corn in and shook it over the fire. When it was all popped, you unlatched the cage and dumped the popcorn into a bowl and started all over again."

"Okay, so what's a stereo--" Mark broke off. "What did you call that thing?"

"Stereoscope. That's one of those gadgets like binoculars." The judge mimed holding something to his face. "You put a card in a slot and looked at it through two eyepieces and it looked three-dimensional, see?"

"Kinda like a viewmaster." McCormick sat in thought for a moment. "And all this was _fun_. I mean, compared to just turning up a thermostat, ordering in a pizza, and watching a movie on TV."

There was a snort from the judge. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily want to go through it all now. But, yeah, it _was_ fun at the time, and it's fun to look back on."

Silence reigned for a while, except for the crackle of the fire.

Hardcastle finally stirred, leaning forward and picking up his mug. "I'm gonna have some more." He held up a hand to forestall any complaining. "I'll make it myself." He looked at the contemplative McCormick. "You want some too, this time?"

Mark thought briefly. "Yeah, okay. How 'bout then we have some popcorn, cooked the _regular_ way," he peeped up at the judge with a small smile, "then we could watch the stereoscope." He jerked a thumb at the television behind his chair.

"Now that sounds like a plan," Hardcastle grinned back at him. "And for supper we'll use up the last of the eggs and that leftover ham. I'm gonna have mine," he stated proudly, "sunny side up."

_finis_


End file.
